99. John Zorn / Spy vs. Spy (1989)

I remember it clearly. It was December of the year I turned 17, incidentally just a few weeks after I bought The Shape of Jazz to Come, my first Ornette Coleman album. I was in the parking lot of a concert, standing atop my cooler. I had been up there for about 30 minutes or so watching people walk by when one of the guys camping next to us started playing Spy vs. Spy on his car stereo. I had already made myself intimately familiar with the strains on Shape, so Zorn's mysterious and new (to me) spin on "Chronology" was a revelation. It literally fell out of the sky. Once the initial confusion subsided, there was bliss. I stayed on top of the cooler and talked to the guy who put on the album (Nate, from Columbus, who was standing on the ground). We chatted about other Ornette Coleman albums I should buy as we listened to Zorn's elite posse of contemporary jazzists sail through 15 more tunes. Although "Chronology" was the only one I knew, and it was over pretty fast, the rest of the disc already seemed like an old friend. Over the years, Shape and Spy became like mutual codexes to each other, which is funny, considering the lack of material that is common to both. In 1999 I lacked the listening background to bring a truly appreciative context to either record, but I'm astonished that either record filled the hole that it did, and I still enjoy them both greatly and they continually offer me new ideas to invest in.

Somewhere above, I listen to John Zorn

That is, I think, a testament to the enduring vision of each. That's a mouthful but I can't think of any other way to put it. When I hear Zorn, Joey Baron, Tim Berne, Mark Dresser and Michael Vatcher painting the walls with a group improv like those found on Spy, I can hear their interpretations peeling back the layers of the onion, while simultaneously putting more back on the top. There's so much going on -- the clashing tonalities and meters, the timbres and partials of altos' upper register, the fury of it all. The language of each improvisation is so unique. It's like lightning in a bottle. And yet in all its abrasive, assertive, uncompromising glory, it exudes an inescapable beauty. I like "C & D," "Broadway Blues," "Feet Music," or "Zig Zag" the best, but this is one album I must always start from the beginning.

71. Sun Ra / Blue Delight (1989)

Blue Delight recorded alongside Purple Night and so the music retains the same character. Be advised, though, All Music Guide and anyone who quoted them got it wrong, because there is no Don Cherry heard here -- he's on Purple Night. The title track is jubilant and showcases Ra's style on the piano. He is double-fisted, percussive, highly rhythmic, and swinging. His chords are thick and the left hand interplays with the right, sometimes dividing phrases between the two, punctuating them with occasional boulders. There are stimulating interpretations of tunes like "Days of Wine and Roses" and "Gone with the Wind" but my favorite track is the Ra-riginal "They Dwell on Other Planes." Ra uses the synth sparingly, but numerous solos over the menacing vamp extend it beyond the 12-minute mark. Throughout the album, strains from Tommy Turrentine, John Gilmore, Bruce Edwards, and others usher the proceedings with excitement and color. I once heard this described as "hip music for squares or square music for hipsters" and that's it. If I find that reviewer, I''ll quote him here. I think it's damned good music, and an essential recording for listeners who enjoy their jazz left of center.

36. Henry Threadgill Sextett / Rag, Bush and All (1989)

Mr. Threadgill turns his attention to the possibilities of composing for a jazz sextet, laying aside his penchant for world percussion and other unconventional orchestration. There aren't any frame drums and you won't find an oud, but between Threadgill's bass flute, the bass trombone (Bill Lowe's sole obligation), string bass, cello, and flugelhorn, the instrumental colors are focused in the lower ranges. Add two drummers and shake, and the recipe really works -- bright splashes from Threadgill's alto and Ted Daniels' cornet create a high flavor that is joined by Diedre Murry, whose free explorations on the cello wouldn't sound out of place with Henry Cow. Fred Hopkins, no stranger to interplay with Murry or Threadgill, was always a creative improviser, and uses the full range of the instrument, playing so percussively that you'd think he was a percussionist himself. Threadgill's abilities as composer and arranger are ever apparent, playfully alternating between snatches of melody and bumpy sections of turbulent rhythmic counterpoint. When the soloists open up in later sections of "The Devil is on the Loose and Dancin' with a Monkey," maybe it's the horn and twin drummers, but the music feels a smidge like that of the second Miles Davis Quintet. And in the sections surrounding Threadgill's chorus in "Sweet Holy Rag," the drums and winds play slightly out of phase and recall effect of the opening track on Davis' Nefertiti, that of an unsettling and self-propelled whole that creeps along like a caterpillar and demands the ear's attention. During collective improvisations, the musicians have their ears wide open, and the product is a busy and tantalizing melee of interwoven phrases and meters that step above one person simply jumping into line behind the next.  "Gift" is the shortest piece on the record, a beautifully dirge-like spell of bowed strings, chimes, and arranged winds that is overshadowed by the 12-minute tempests on either side of it. Yet again I listen to an album like this one with such interesting compositions and wish it was available to new generations of jazz composers and musicians, but shake my head in awe of the fact that it has lapsed out of print. There are numerous groups in modern jazz that could adapt these tunes nicely.

27. Benny Goodman / Vol II: Clarinet a la King (1989)

A great "best of" set with sides dating from 1939 to 1941, with Georgie Auld, Ziggy Elman, Charlie Christian, guest Cootie Williams, and many others. The previously unissued master of "Henderson Stomp" with Fletcher himself on piano is a fine highlight, so is "Zaggin' with Zig," after Ziggy Elman and "Solo Flight," a spotlight for Charlie Christian. The band is hot but the arrangements make the whole thing work, and I enjoy the creative ways the reeds play against the brass. In this era trumpets had a more diverse assortment of techniques to work with, either open or with mutes, and listening to the soloist use these in different contexts is exciting. Helen Forrest and Peggy Lee sing guest spots that buoy the program. Forrest has a bell like quality after the band's second chorus on "Bewitched," singing higher and clearer than before, a tone parallel to the upper register of Goodman's clarinet. The music is ebullient and uplifting, the lyrics coy or sassy ("It Never Entered My Mind," "Yes My Darling Daughter") with lots of lift and plenty of volume. It's easy to see how kids could dance to the stuff.

08. Sun Ra / Purple Night (1990)

Purple Night is a late period recording of an impressive 22-piece Arkestra, and it's a gem. Its superior audio quality bears mentioning in comparison to the wealth of Sun Ra material that is well performed, but poorly rendered on disc. Astute listeners will note the title recalls Night of the Purple Moon, and likewise, four of its tracks ("Journey Toward the Stars," "Love in Outer Space," "Stars Fell on Alabama," and "Purple Night Blues") are done in a relatively conventional, small group setting that stylistically approaches the mainstream. But Purple Night is far more adventurous. Don Cherry, John Ore and Julian Priester are on hand and help frame Ra within the greater context of his work in the jazz idiom. The closing track on side two features him alone with Ore and walking the blues, a working proof of Ra's role as musician, visionary, and, perhaps to some, enigma.